


Getting To Know You

by french_crap



Series: Starless Sky [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Combeferre is cute, Combeferre is important, Combeferre is weird, Developing Relationship, Ferretaire, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3896716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/french_crap/pseuds/french_crap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre is the friend who will reason you, who will bring you home after you had to much to drink, who will take care of your soul, of your sanity and your reputation. Combeferre is the friend who pushes up his glasses, reads books, and is very interested in what he is studying at University. Combeferre is mature, calm and serious.</p><p>...</p><p>Or is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bees And Moths

When Grantaire came back into the apartment after having made his way to the city center to get the two of them some McDonalds for their movie night, he found a crying Combeferre in the middle of the living room.

And crying wasn’t even enough to describe the state in which his friend was. Big, ugly tears streamed down his cheeks, his face was flushed red, saliva was on his lips, he was sobbing loudly, sitting flat on his bum on the floor, his arms hanging loosely down next to his body.

“Holy shit, ‘Ferre, what happened?” Grantaire dropped the brown paper bag on the kitchen counter and hurried over to him, bringing his hand to his friend’s shoulder. “What is it? What happened? Are you okay?!”

Combeferre paused for the split of a second barely opened his eyes to look at Grantaire and then threw his head back and cried even louder, likely to an oversized toddler. Grantaire blinked, confusion and worry written on his face. He scooted closer and brought his arms around him. “What the fuck, 'Ferre? Talk to me.”

It took a few attempts before Combeferre had dimmed the violent sobbing to a soft sniffeling. Wiping his face he glared at Grantaire through his tears. “I killed a bee.”

Grantaire froze. “Pardon?”

Combeferre pointed to the floor and when Grantaire followed his arm and finger with his gaze, he appeared a blotch of hairy slobber. Yellow and brown. He looked back up at Combeferre.

“I am so sorry, Grantaire! It was crawling around on the window sill and I wanted to save it, so I put it on a piece of paper but it fell down and I stepped on it, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to kill it, I am such a cruel person, I deserve to die-ie-ie.” The last part of his words diffused into sobbing again.

Grantaire stared at him for another few seconds, before pinching his nose and letting out a long, long sigh.


	2. Know Your Words

When Grantaire woke up one morning at Joly’s, he took a moment to identify the particular noise he heard.

The sun had tickled his nose until he had opened his eyes, tiredly smacking his lips. Remembering that he wasn’t as home but on his best friend’s couch, he turned on his back, cautiously pulling the blanket over the lower part of his body. At first it seemed that no one was in the room, but then he heard the noise again and he frowned.

It sounded like … someone giggling?

He rubbed his eyes and sat up. The living room in front of him was empty, but the giggling was still there. So he turned around to the open kitchen and found Combeferre sitting at the table – the pink plastic one that Musichetta had brought into this apartment when she moved in – bent over a huge book. He was probably here to do his homeworks with Joly, both of them were medecine students after all. Grantaire often forgot that they were, although so seemingly different, really good friends for many years now.

On his face was a giant grin, and whenever he flipped a page, he let out a little giggle, or a content sigh.

“What the hell?” Grantaire yawned, rubbing his eyes again to make sure he wasn’t sleeping anymore.

“Oh! R! Goodmorning!” Combeferre beamed, stubbing his glasses up his nose.

“What are you doing?” Grantaire grunted back. Not in a particularly bad mood, just a bit too tired to be extra nice.

“I read the etymology dictionary!”

“You read the etymology dictionary.” It wasn’t a question.

“It is terribly interesting. Did you know that -”

“Nope.” Grantaire shook his head, flopped back down on the couch and shoved his head under the pillow.


	3. Happy Birthday To Me

When Grantaire entered the Corinth this night, a present tucked in his bag, he found a laughing crowd, mostly consistent of Les Amis, cheering for someone in their middle.

Carefully approaching his friends he realised that it was Combeferre who was the center of attention, crouched down on the ground, his hands stuck in the back pockets of his jeans.

“What the fuck is happening?” Grantaire asked, just in time to hear how Combeferre cooed out an adorable little curr.

Joly laughed. He reached Grantaire his bottle of beer. “'Ferre came back from Australia for his birthday. He’s now imitating all the wild animals he has encountered there.”

Grantaire blinked in disbelief, took the bottle and emptied it in a few gulps before turning back to Combeferre, who was now standing on one leg and stuck his head between his shoulders. Then he stood straight and started to explain which animal that was, where it was to be found, how the real-life encounter with it had been, and added a lot of details here and there, making the crowd laugh and cheer even more. It should be added that all of them were very drunk by now, and for the first time Grantaire was the most sober one of them all. Still, as he kept listening to Combeferre’s story, his lips curled up to a smirk. Such a nerd.

When midnight stroke everyone made Combeferre sit on a chair and gave him three cheers, singing various birthday songs – all at once – out of tune. Combeferre’s cheek turned pink and he giggled happily after he blew out the candles on his birthday cake. (The cake was hand made by his two best friends, Enjolras and Courfeyrac. And although it looked absolutely marvelous it was probably the worst cake Grantaire had ever eaten.)

“Presents!” Bossuet shouted and everyone hurried to get theirs to bring it to Combeferre. Eating their pieces of cake, they watched how he opened them one by one, carefully and without ripping the paper.

At every new gift he stopped and whined: “I don’t want to rip the paper. It’s so pretty.” And ended up doing it anyways after everyone encouraged him to do it, because it was just paper after all.

He got a lot of books about topics Grantaire had never even heard of, instruments for researches Grantaire would never know how to use, and a real compass from the 18th century, which seemed to make him the happiest.

The more the night advanced, the more Slows were played by Feuilly, who had taken over the music station around 1am after Bahorel had decided to only play Baby Girl on repeat. People were getting sleepy and the conversations softened, the mood got comfortable and quiet. Some of the friends were already gone, mostly because it was finals season and everyone needed to prepare themselves. But Grantaire, still rather sober, couldn’t think of a real reason to leave just yet, so he sat in a corner next to the kissing Bossuet and Musichetta, and just watched.

Combeferre was engaged in a conversation about languages with Marius, who had apparently read the same Dictionary of etymology that he had. His presents were all stapled up around him. Presents from all of his friends. All of his friends but one.

Grantaire got up and walked over to him.

“Hey, ‘Ferre.”

“Hey, R.” Combeferre smiled, his hands still in the air from the vivid explanation he had been giving Marius about the background of a word.

“Can I sit?”

Combeferre dropped his hands, surprised, and chuckled. “Of course you can.” It was indeed a bit out of character for Grantaire to ask so shyly, he noticed now. He grinned the awkwardness away and plopped down on the chair next to Combeferre.

“I forgot something.”

Combeferre tilted his head to the side. “You forgot something?”

“It’s your birthday.” Grantaire nodded.

Combeferre raised and eyebrow. He had immediately gone back into the Combeferre Grantaire knew so well. The serious, contemplating, polite Combeferre. Not the crying-over-bees, imitating-wild-animals Combeferre he had gotten to know over the past few weeks. “It is my birthday. I happen to know.” There was a whiff of sarcasm in his voice, but barely more. Suddenly he looked away from Grantaire, craned his neck and let his gaze trail around the room. He seemed to search for something. Someone. When he didn’t find them, he turned back to Grantaire, putting up a colder smile. “He’s gone and you’re lonely now?”

Grantaire paused. He, too, looked around for a moment, confused, trying to see what Combeferre had seen. “What?”

“Enjolras. He’s gone and now you’re bored. Fine. Tell me about him.”

Staring at Combeferre, who’s eyebrows were raised so harshly, Grantaire didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the expression of someone who liked hearing about his friend’s crush. This was the expression of someone who had been used as a listener far too many times. He had not spent a single minute thinking about Enjolras tonight. Except maybe while eating the cake. But there was obviously no point in blaming Combeferre for such thoughts. It wasn’t his fault that he had learned from the past two years, and the fact that Grantaire only ever talked to him when he wanted something from Enjolras.

His hands cramped around his beer glass, and he looked away. “It’s not about him.” he said quietly, getting up from his chair again. He put his bag with the present inside on the table and pointed at it. “For you. Happy Birthday.”

Combeferre watched him with widened eyes but didn’t say anything. Not even when Grantaire turned around and left the Corinth.


	4. Defying Gravity

When his phone rang for the fourth time that day, he finally opened his eyes. It was dark in his room. The curtains were closed, he hadn’t felt like seeing the outside world today. He knew that he should have gone to class and the clock on the wall ticked, but he didn’t feel like looking at it. He was bored, and his laptop was turned on right next to his bed, but he didn’t feel like watching a movie. He didn’t even feel like listening to music.

He felt like doing nothing. Like hiding in bed, like not moving, like not even sleeping, just like … not existing.

But his phone rang again and the screen was bright enough to illuminate the entire room. Such a dirty, messy room.

Slowly, very slowly, he reached out for it and unlocked it to see who had called him.

 

Combeferre [18:33] – missed  
Combeferre [18:50] – missed

Combeferre [19:29] – missed

Combeferre [19:43] – missed

Combeferre [20:01] – missed

 

2 New Mailbox Messages

 

He was in no mood to listen to those messages, so he just hit the ‘Send Message’ option and wrote:

Hey, Ferre. Sorry, I was busy working out.

All the school work really exhausted me today, haha.

He hesitated, then added:

You called?

 

Barely a minute later his phone buzzed again and this time he picked up.

“'Ferre, buddy! How are you?” It scared him how honest his laugh sounded.

“R? Are you okay?”

“Yes, sure. Sorry I missed your calls.”

There was a short pause. Combeferre didn’t pick up on his joyful tone. “Where were you?”

Grantaire frowned. Had he missed something? “What do you mean?”

“We were supposed to meet at Anvers to go to see a movie?”

“Shit.” The covers fell from his shoulders as he sat up. Combeferre didn’t say anything and so he tried to find the right words to fill in the blank. He spoke slowly. “I … shit … I’m really fucking sorry, 'Ferre. I completely forgot. I … I was asleep … I missed it, I-”

“I thought you were working out?”

Grantaire closed his eyes. He was exhausted. It sure felt like he had been working out.

Combeferre seemed to wait but when nothing else came, he cleared his voice. “I waited two hours for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You could’ve picked up your phone.”

“I’m sorry, Ferre, I-”

“I was worried.”

Grantaire brought his legs to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees. “I’m sorry.” he whispered, barely audible.

Combeferre’s voice softened. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

There was another moment of silence. “Do you still want to go see the movie? There’s another one starting in an hour.”

“Can’t.”

Hesitation. “Would you … like me to come over?”

His arms hugged his own legs tighter and tighter and his throat closed up. “Please.”

His apartment was a mess. More than a mess. It was dirty. He didn’t need to look around and remind himself of all the empty bottles, forgotten pizza- and Chinese take-away boxes, of the clothes full of vomit. He didn’t need to see the never washed out cups and bowls, or the used condoms and syringes to know they were there, to know that he should have cleaned up long ago.

He only needed to see Combeferre’s face as he entered his place for the very first time. His eyes jumped from corner to corner and his jaws clenched. Eventually he walked over to the windows and opened them.

“I’m sorry.” Grantaire mumbled, crossing his arms and leaning against a wall. He wanted to disappear in it. He hadn’t managed to dress up in time, but he only wondered now if Combeferre minded his worn-too-often pyjamas.

“Take a shower, R. I … make us dinner.”

“Can’t. There are pots and pans in the tub.”

Combeferre nodded and went to the bathroom, coming back a moment later with said pots and pans. “Now you can go. You can … take your time.”

Grantaire was too tired to argue, and too tired to be ashamed of himself. He disappeared as ordered to take a shower. He took his time, yes. Not because he wanted to, but because every action took so incredibly long to perform. Gravity seemed to have an extra strong effect on him today.

Wrapped in a towel he scuffled back to his bedroom. Dressing up took less long, even though he spent many minutes just staring out the window, forgetting to move at all.

Only when he finally made his way back to the living room, he realized how much time had passed.

“Fuck.”

Everything was clean.

And not only tidied up and put back into order, no, clean. There was no dirty dish, no empty cart box, no laundry left, all kinds of papers, whether art or school work, was neatly piled up on the table, he could see the floor, the couch, the Tv, and even the perpetual stench was gone. He stumbled into the kitchen, which was just as hospital-white as it had been when he had started to live in this apartment. In the middle of it at the table sat Combeferre, sipping a coffee and reading a book. When he heard Grantaire coming in he looked up and smiled.

Grantaire knew that Combeferre waited for him to say something, but he was so baffled – amazed and overwhelmed – that he had lost all his words. He just shook his head.

Combeferre chuckled. “I’ll do the laundry tomorrow. But I didn’t want to put on the machine in case it wakes up the neighbours.”

Grantaire nodded slowly and crossed the room to then fall on his knees next to Combeferre’s chair. Combeferre raised his eyebrows in surprise and gently put a hand on Grantaire’s head.

“Are you feeling a little better?” he asked softly.

He shrugged, nodding, then shook his head. “I have no idea how to repay you.” he murmured, looking up at the smiling black eyes before wrapping his arms around Combeferre’s middle and burying his face in his chest.

Combeferre ran his fingers through the wet hair. “It’s fine. Just let me stay here for the night. I can sleep on the couch.”

Grantaire nodded, squeezing him a little more, then chuckled a little, speaking quietly. “Shit man, I forgot I even had a couch.”


	5. Boner Encounter

When Grantaire woke up in the middle of the night and sat up, slightly confused about where he was, he remembered everything that had happened that day when his eyes fell on Combeferre.

He was curled up on the other side of the couch, his mouth gapped and his glasses sitting upside down on his nose. His calm and deep breath showed that he was soundly asleep.

“Nerd.” he smirked and watched him snore silently to the melody of the ever-repeating DVD starter menu.

Until now he hadn’t noticed, but it seemed as if Combeferre’s hair was a little longer than it used to be. The tiny, frizzled black curls appeared to have grown and made everything look even more fluffy. Grantaire was tempted to touch it. Would that be weird? A friend cautiously caressing another friend’s hair while he slept? Or was that already too deep into non-consent? Was it a no-go even though he just wanted to appreciate the Combeferre he had gotten to know only so recently? This crazy, funny and actually really lovely Combeferre. He closed his eyes and tried to consult his inner Combeferre, who usually knew the answer to moral conflicting situations such as this. But his inner Combeferre was just as tight asleep as the real one was, and so he just sighed and kept smiling.

His eyes wandered down and stopped at the sweater which had slipped up to reveal the tiniest part of Combeferre’s stomach. After they had ordered sushi – Combeferre had insisted to eat something healthier than pizza – they had been so full that both of them had opened the upper button of their pants. This open button along with the sweater that was so cheekily showing off Combeferre’s abdomen, let Grantaire’s hand twitch again. His eyes fastened on that cute little tummy made him want to feel its warmth, made him want to drive his hand up under this sweater and hold Combeferre safely in his arms, hold him tightly against himself to make sure that Combeferre knew how grateful he was for everything he had ever done to him, to make sure he knew that Grantaire would do his best to repay him, to keep him just as healthy, as warm, as happy as he had kept Grantaire over the course of the last two years. But again, he didn’t move.

Then his eyes saw something, right under the opened button, something that was bulging nicely against the cloth of Combeferre’s pant, which didn’t appear like something Grantaire was meant to see at all.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, ‘Ferre.” he laughed and looked away.

“Hm?”

Grantaire froze, grinning apologetically. “Ah. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Combeferre shook his head. His eyes were still closed but his lips curled up to a soft smile. “It’s fine, Grantaire-bear.” he murmured.

Grantaired blinked and stared at him. “Grantaire-bear.” he repeated, slightly baffled.

A moment of silence followed before Combeferre suddenly jolted up, sitting straight, and stared at Grantaire with wide-opened eyes. Grantaire stared back, just as surprised, waiting for Combeferre to say something. But he didn’t say anything at all. He just relaxed, fell back onto the couch and threw his arms over his face, letting out a long sigh.

“You okay, buddy?” Grantaire asked, smirking despite himself.

Combeferre nodded. “I thought I was asleep. I mean. I thought what I dreamt was real and … Nevermind.” Grantaire raised his eyebrows and watched Combeferre dropping his arms to the side to smile up at him. What a gorgeous smile. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“I fell asleep first, I think.”

“You did.”

“Sorry then.”

“It’s fine. The movie was boring.”

Grantaire was so distracted by how melodic Combeferre’s voice sounded when he wasn’t serious, that he forgot to reply for a moment. “You call me Grantaire-Bear in your dreams?” he then caught up on himself.

Combeferre laughed, and hid his face behind his hands again. “I admit, I do have a soft spot for rhymes.”

Grantaire snorted and took Combeferre’s hand away to see this smile again. “You’re such a nerd, buddy.”

For a short second they smiled at each other, just until Combeferre noticed what Grantaire had noticed just a few minutes before while former had still been asleep.

“Oh holy-” Combeferre sat up again, hastily, his face turning dark red, and he covered his lap with a pillow. “Very unsolicited.”

Grantaire burst out in laughter and got up. “It’s too late to be embarrassed. I’m gonna go and leave you and your friend,” he pointed to Combeferre’s well-covered crotch, “alone now.”

Combeferre nodded sheepishly.

But the second he was in his bedroom, all the memories of sleepless nights, of painfully lonesome afternoons, of cold winters, of days and days and weeks and weeks of depression had been spent in this bed came back, crawled into his mind, poisoned his happiness, and his heart started racing up. As he lay down in his bed he felt his hands starting to shake, and looking around the newly cleaned up room, he wondered where Combeferre had put his alcohol.

Just as he pulled his blankets over his head and tried to ignore how cold it was, he heard a knocking on the door.

“Grantaire-Bear?” Combeferre timidly asked.

Grantaire grinned and turned to look at him. The only light in the living room was the TV, and it only gave a faint light to illuminate his bedroom. “Yeah, 'Ferre-Bear?”

The silhouette came closer and sat down on the border of the bed. “Don’t be silly, we can’t both be bears.”

“The whole world can be a bear if you want to.” Grantaire smirked. He was too sober to make so little sense. “What is it? Do you need anything?”

“No, I just …” He hesitated. “Thank you for your birthday present. It was beautiful.”

Grantaire propped himself up on his elbows. He had nearly forgotten about the present. “You liked it?”

“It was … unusual. Unlike what the others got me.”

There was something weird in Combeferre’s voice, making it difficult for Grantaire to know if this was something positive or negative. “I thought you’d receive more books than you can read anyways… If you don’t like it, you don’t have to hang it up, you know. It’s not like I’ll mind-”

“No!” Combeferre interrupted him. “It’s already hung up. In my kitchen, right on the wall opposite to the door. So everyone can see it when they enter my apartment.”

Grantaire nodded, surprised. “Oh.”

“Y-yes. It’s beautiful. And funny. Because … y'know, bees and … things.”

“Cry baby.”

“Shush.” he laughed.

Grantaire waited but nothing else followed. “Anything else, buddy?”

A loud breath was to hear, as if he wanted to say something, but then he exhaled again. “Just thank you. And …”

“And?”

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, and his voice was so hurt and so broken that Grantaire needed to close his eyes for a moment to not just grin the awkwardness away. He knew what this was about, there was no reason to pretend otherwise.

“For assuming that I care more about Apollo than I care about you? That even on your birthday, he is the only thing I can think of? That, although I gave my best to stay as sober as I could, only to really spend this night with you, you decided that all I wanted to talk about was him?”

Combeferre let his head hang. “Yes. I know that you are more than just him. And I should act like I know.”

Grantaire stared at the barely visible face. More than just him. “I accept your apology, but know that it’s bullshit. For the longest time I was just that. Him.” He paused. “What you just said. That I - It’s really pitiful, but whatever – that I wasn’t more than just him. I guess I only realise that now. Not that I’ve been shit to many people because of him. I … I knew that. Jehan made me see that a few weeks ago. But that. You know. What you just said. That for the last year I was really nothing else but him. Shit. I didn’t realise that before.” He shook his head. “And that’s something I need to apologise for. I’m a fuckward. I used you. I shouldn’t have but I used you. Not on purpose, but I did. And fucking hell, you’re really the last person who should be used for his kindness. So. Yeah. I’m sorry, too.”

He wished he could see Combeferre’s face and see what his friend was thinking. Instead, he had to stare into the darkness and wait for an answer. And this answer came very, very softly, and very, very slowly.

“I love you, Grantaire.”

“Hm?” He stared more deeply into the dark.

“I … I love you. You’re … very important to me and I’m glad that you gave me a chance to prove that I am more than just books and … moths.”

Grantaire laughed, trying not to make it sound as nervous as he felt like. “I love you, too, buddy. I’m glad we got to-”

“I reacted that way because I’m jealous.” Combeferre cut him off, speaking faster than before. Grantaire paused.

“Of?”

“Of Enjolras. Of … the Enjolras you consider to be Enjolras. Of … well, of Apollo.”

Grantaire didn’t know if he should laugh it off, or take him serious. He really wanted some light now, only to see how Combeferre was feeling. He couldn’t stand not to know what expression was on his friend’s face. However, for whatever reason the words he chose were: “No, you don’t.”

“I do. It seems nice to be looked at like you look at him.”

“No, it isn’t.” Grantaire shook his head. “To be looked at by someone, like people look at the sun, is not what you want. You are more than just a burning fireball, more than a fucking metaphor. You’ve got so many amazing traits, you’re a really crazy nerd, and I doubt that you want me to be so blinded by your light that I can’t see any of that.”

Combeferre stayed silent for a moment. “Can you see any of that now?” He shifted, Grantaire wasn’t quite sure what he did, it was too dark. For another few moments it was completely silent. “I just want to be seen…”

“I can. I do. I do see you.”

 

Combeferre shifted again, and this time Grantaire knew what he was doing. He was standing up.

“Hey.” Grantaire stopped him.

“Yes..?”

“My couch is pretty uncomfortable. And my bed is cold.”

Combeferre chuckled. “Aha? And?”

Grantaire lifted the blanket. “I heard bears sleep by far better when they share a cave.”

“Grantaire, I’m not moving into a cave with you.”

To his surprise, Grantaire was almost entirely sure that those words were only meant to tease him. Combeferre teased him? That was new, too. “Come on. Don’t make me feel sorry for your poor ass and go sleep on the couch myself.” But before he could finish his sentence, Combeferre was already crawled under the blanket, leaving enough space between them for another person to lie there. Grantaire turned his head to stare at what he knew would be the beautiful black curls. He smirked, wondering if he could touch it now without making it look creepy.

“Sleep well, Grantaire-bear.”

Grantaire snorted. “Sleep well, 'Ferre-bear, who loves rhymes, and bees, and wild animals, and cleaning up other people’s places.”


	6. A New Kind Of Light

When Grantaire woke up the next morning, he felt light, despite the heavy warmth resting on his chest. One of his hands was tangled into the thick hair of his friend, the other was slipped into latter’s underpants and cupped his buttcheek. His legs were between and around the other two legs and his forehead rested against Combeferre’s temple.

He had no idea how they had gotten there, but although he didn’t quite know how appropriate it was to have a hand on Combeferre’s ass, although one of his arms was asleep and numb, and although he worried about how awkward the boner encounter would be this time, although all this, he was pretty sure that he didn’t want to move a single inch.

Everything felt light, and for the first time in weeks, he was tied to the bed for another reason than suffocating heaviness.

It was nice. And then a bee flew against the window and dropped motionless down on the window sill.


End file.
